The Evil Within
by Ferus Grim
Summary: Harry Potter discovers his powers at age seven. ... - Story is, currently, abandoned. Sorry, for those of you who were paying attention to it. I will come back - I swear, but, for now, I'm stuck.
1. Prologue

**A/N **_– Because of a major lack of 'evil!harry' fics in general, let alone with a 'HP/HG' ship, I decided to write this fanfic. I've had the idea swimming around in my head for about a week and finally decided to start writing it! You'll most likely see a couple of things in the story that you won't like. I'm sure that my grammar is up to par, as well as the personalities in my characterization, however – because I am not JKR, I'm bound to make mistakes, as is my nature. Regardless of those inevitable errors, however, I hope you enjoy the story and leave me a review or comment on how you like the story. I will try to stay dedicated to the story and continue writing, but with school coming up, I would only expect a couple chapters a month. Anyways, enjoy._

**A/N****II**_ – Just another side-note, this will follow canon's events, because I don't think Harry being evil will effect that many plot-lines besides how people look at him, however – it will most likely be claimed an AU for many different reasons. I also want to make it known that while Harry will probably not get a long with Dumbledore, this will NOT be a fic that bashes him._

_Disclaimer:_ If I owned Harry Potter, I most likely would not be writing this fic. Incidentally enough, if I owned any of the Harry Potter franchise, I would probably not be using an old IBM T41 laptop. Eh?

**__________________________________________________________________**

**Prologue – Discovery & Before Hogwarts**

"What did you mean by it, _boy_?" came the rumbling earthquake of a voice from an over-sized man with a scruffily beard and a very nicely shaped vein protruding from his forehead, face purple. He was speaking to a raven haired boy about the age of six. This boy happened to be named Harry Potter. The overly robust man towering over him was his uncle, Vernon Dursley.

Vernon had the scrawny raven haired child by the scruff of his collar and was carrying him none to gently to a cupboard under the stairs. The boulder of a man had received a phone call from Harry's school principle talking about how he had 'been caught sneaking around on the roof of his school'. Of course, that wasn't nearly even a half truth, not the the school or Harry's uncle was going to believe him.

Another boy, about Harry's age, but at least three times his girth, walked in after the two. He was the reason Harry was in this mess. Chasing Harry around seemed to be the baby whale's favorite activity. However, instead of catching him and pummeling him, Harry had disappeared from right in front of him and his gang, somehow getting onto the roof. The only thing Harry could recall about ending up on the roof, was closing his eyes while he ran and wanting to get away from the whale and his friends.

Dudley was the name of the hippo that was currently smirking at the situation in front of him. He might not have been able to beat Harry up, like usual, but in his mind, Harry getting yelled at by his bulging Uncle, was just as bad, if not worse. Chuckling at the scene, Dudley flopped onto the couch, hearing the squeaks of protest, and began flipping through the channels on the telly.

Bustling into the home behind the scrawny boy and two whales from the marine zoo about a half a kilometer away, was a tight faced woman in her late thirties. Being the only blood relative left to Harry, he did feel a slight connection to her, no matter how vile she had always treated him. It wasn't as if he could help it, but he did. Pursing her lips at him, while Vernon was ranting, she stalked to the kitchen. His only true family left in the world, Petunia.

"Are you daft, _boy_?" came another angry snarl from Vernon. Harry's anger flared as he stared menacingly at Vernon, the hallway lights flickering slightly.

"Stop! Calling! Me! _BOY_!" at the last word, a lamp in the dining room shattered and Harry was thrown, haphazardly, into his cupboard and, despite Vernon's apparent fear, heard the faint clicking of the lock being utilized in it's main function since the day Harry's uncle had brought it home for his fourth birthday. Locking him in his proverbial cell.

He sat in the darkness of his small room, if one could call it that, choosing not to switch the light on that had a chain cord hanging down. Running his hands through his hair, he closed his eyes and leaned back over his cot and started to think. What had happened at school? How did he get to the roof? What in the _hell_, had just happened a couple seconds ago?

Mulling it over he realized something. His uncle was in front of him, his normal vein popping from his forehead. His aunt was in the kitchen cooking up enough food to feed a couple dozen people at an 'All-You-Can-Eat" buffet, or in the current household, two people. And his cousin, Dudley, was perusing the telly.

This left him to think even deeper... Who was flickering the lights? Most of all, who _shattered_ the bulb in the dining room? He couldn't think of anything other than the fact that maybe someone forgot to pay the electricity bill. Maybe the lamp was just old?

Deciding to end his musings, he sighed and closed his eyes, intending to go to sleep. Just as he started to dose off, he wished he could leave this damned cupboard, when a faint jingling sound could be heard, followed by the tell-tale sliding and final clicking of the cupboard lock being released. He gently get off his cot and moved his hand to the door, intending to open it, when it opened of it's own accord. Looking out in the hallway, we released that Petunia was still in the kitchen, while Vernon and his cousin, Dudley were still watching the television. He looked at his hands and, holding them to the door, willed it to close.

The door, easily, complied, shutting him into a dark space. This dark space, however, was accompanied by someone who sat on a dirty, yellowing cot. Someone who, until recently, didn't understand why his family called him a freak. Smirking, he crawled to the cupboard door; not being able to walk because of the height issue. Kneeling in front of the exit to his tomb, he held his hands up to the door, and mentally pushed as hard as he could.

The door flew off the hinges and hit the wall across from it in the hallway. A tiny squeak was all that left Petunia, while Dudley was completely silent. Vernon, however, was full of nothing but rage as he looked upon his nephew and growling before advancing towards him. A tiny chuckle made his overlarge uncle stop in his tracks, if not only for a moment. Smiling, Harry lifted his right hand and thought of stopping Vernon where he stood, and was none to surprised when he fell, shaking the house. Dudley fainted while Petunia went pale. Vernon, was unable to show any new recognition of attitude, because he was currently frozen on the floor.

+*+*+*+

Three years passed quickly for young Harry. In the time from his discovery of power, he had learned many things. Among those things were the fact that he was a wizard. He didn't know for a while what was causing his powers, but he seemed to have a knack for finding out. He could simply peer into someones eyes and find what he wanted. It was a very strange skill, but not unwelcome...

_"Tell me, Petunia." spoke an eight year old Harry Potter, "Do you know why I have these powers. These... abilities?" He wasn't really expecting an answer, but he figured she would eventually tell him. He had complete control over, not only her, but her whole family. It was only a matter of time before they started succumbing to his will. Doing whatever he wanted them too._

_"Yes. But you'll never be able to make me tell you! You- You _FREAK_!." spat the middle aged woman. She was growing tired of his games, even if she knew she couldn't do anything to stop him._

_Harry remembered wanting to know the truth, and, the moment he looked into her eyes, he felt his vision go blurry. When he opened his eyes, he could feel the ethereal presence of Petunia Dursley around him, but he couldn't see her. He thought of his powers and how to get out, but as the thought crossed his mind, it seemed to call up thoughts of someone. Someone that wasn't him. He looked at them and could tell that they were coming from his aunt. She was looking at his mother._

_They were having an argument about something, but he couldn't pay much attention, because right in front of him was the only time he had ever seen his mother in real life. Or as close as he was going to get to it. He felt a sting of tears. These tears, however, were not for compassion. Not for love. Not for grief for lost time the two could have spent together, but of anger. Anger at her leaving him with these miserable people. His anger seemed to push him out of Petunia's mind. He was in a rage, and without thinking consciously about it, pointed a single finger and his aunt and thought about causing pain. With a simple gesture and a thought, she inhaled sharply before letting out a crippling scream. Her pain seemed to spark a light in him. The fact that he knew he was causing it made it shine brighter. He laughed slightly and pointed a single finger at her again, pushing more of his will into it, letting her scream louder and louder._

_Vernon had stood, dumbstruck, to watch the scene. Harry let up on Petunia and looked at Vernon, a smirk played on his face, while a fire burning in his eyes. He pointed both hands at his uncle and pushed as much magic into making him feel as much pain as possible. A sickly yellow beam shot from Harry's hand and landed a direct hit to Vernon's chest where he fell violently to the ground, writhing in pain._

_Harry looked at Petunia and smiled, evilly. "I'll only ask you one more time." he spoke to her, "Do you know why I have these powers?"_

_She nodded, in defeat, and he entered her mind again, seeking the answers that he craved._

Harry, among being able to enter people's minds, could also speak to snakes and control people. He wasn't sure if he had always been able to, or if it was a recent ability. However, when he was ten, he did hold a conversation with boa and commanded it's release.

_"Having fun in there?" Harry asked the Boa Constrictor, more or less just entertaining himself, __not really expecting a conversation. Not expecting a response._

_"No. I can't sssay that I am enjoying mysself, young one." hissed the snake back at him._

_Staring at the snake in disbelief, Harry began to talk again, and pried answers from him. "You __can understand me?" The raven headed boy asked._

_"Who? Me? No... I just make my hisssess sound like words to fuck with your head." The snake replied, snarkily._

_"Oh," Harry responded, "Well, if that's the case, I guess you're of no interest to me. I'll just be on my way." He started to walk away, but after only getting a couple steps, the snake hissed back at him._

_"Wait.. Pleassse, sset me free. I can't sstand thiss cage. It's so... consstricting."_

_Harry, feeling the irony, "Well... how do you expect me to get you out... Ask? 'Hello, sir, can you let a three-hundred pound Boa out of that glass tank, please?' Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?"_

_"Couldn't hurt to try, kind ssir." The snake hissed._

_Sighing, Harry walked over to a near bye worker and asked, "Hello, sir, can you let a three-hundred pound Boa out of that glass tank, please?"._

_The man snorted and ignored him, and stared off, dreamily, at a blond headed girl a couple exhibits away. Harry wouldn't have minded a simple, 'No', but an outright refusal to notice his presence, pissed Harry off. He glared at the employee and spoke again, pushing his magic into his words._

_"Let the Boa out... _NOW_". The man's eyes glazed over before he moved to the exhibit and moved the glass that encased the Boa to the left, allowing free movement for the snake. The snake introduced himself as Descartus before slithering off out the door._

So, more or less, Harry had an eventful couple of years. Honing his skills, he was slowly learning that he could _literally_ do anything he put his mind to. His birthday came around as uneventful as always. He never did anything special for it. It wasn't something special enough for him to care about. However, he did force his aunt to bake him a cake. He did force Dudley to bend over the arm of the couch. And he did force Vernon to spank Dudley eleven times, before giving a pinch for an inch. But that was about as far as his 'festivities' went. Just as six o'clock in the afternoon was rolling around, a letter flew threw the message hole in the front door and landed in Harry's lap. Never have before received mail, he looked at the letter and read what he knew would eventually be coming.

"_Harry Potter_

_No. 4 Privet Drive_

_Master Bedroom_

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**_"

**__________________________________________________________________**

**A/N **– _Well, just over 2,000 words for the Prologue –2,076 -, not including the A/N's of course. I hope you guys like it so far. I'm still looking for a BETA, so if you see any grammar errors, or plot-line errors, feel free to rage at me in a review, =p. If you like the story though, encouragement is always helps! =D_


	2. Memories, Confusion, and the Leaky Cauld

**A/N –**_Hey guys. Sorry this chapter took so long. D= I got stuck somewhere in the middle of page four. Hopefully none of my other chapters will be delayed this long. XD I can't promise I'll release more than two chapters a week though. I'm sure I can keep up with a 2c/pw formula, but any more than that would be pushing my quality down, and I don't wanna do that. XD Anyways, hope you guys like Chapter One, Crystal Clear. I'll be addressing a few things at the end of this chapter via another A/N_

_Disclaimer – _I don't look, act, smell, feel, or sound like J.K. Rowling, therefor I am not. Which also means I haven't

_Chapter 1: Memories, Confusion, and the Leaky Cauldron_

Harry stared at the letter before opening it. Having barged his way through his aunt's mind, he knew his letter would come just like his mom's had all those years ago. However, seeing it in person was completely different. His heart started racing as he slowly ripped the paper around the wax Hogwarts seal. He opened the letter and pulled out the slip of parchment. Reading the first words.

"_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_"

Seeing the words clearly embroiled upon the scroll, was making his heart beat faster in his chest. Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath while he continued on reading the rest of his letter.

"_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Aspiring Witch/Wizard,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins as soon as you are enrolled. We await your owl eagerly._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Secretary to Headmaster Albus Dumbledore_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry_

_**Uniform**_

_First year students will require_

_ sets of plain work robes (black)_

_2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_

_**Set Books**_

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade One) by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_

_**Other Equipment**_

_1 wand_

_1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

_1 set glass or crystal phials_

_1 telescope_

_1 set brass scales_

_Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_"

Harry finished reading the only slip of mail he'd ever received and walked to the dining room table to set it down. The dirtied parchment looking out of place on the freshly polished wood. Looking around the empty room, due to the fact that he had always been an early riser, he sighed out loud and went in search of a piece of paper. He found a notebook in the living room on the stand that held the Victorian lamp and ripped a piece of scrap paper out of it. Taking the paper, Harry walked to the place where he set the parchment, and sat down. He held his hands over both of the items in front of them and focused on the parchment; concentrating on the writing. After he had his focus down, Harry pushed the energy of his focus from the parchment to the paper. When he opened his eyes, the writing was still on the parchment, but the list of things he needed to buy had transferred over to the piece of scrap paper. Smiling at his own handiwork, Harry walked out of the front door of the Dursley household.

Strolling down the road of Privet Drive, Harry tried to recall what he knew about his world. Even though it was _his_ world, he had never learned much about it. Mostly because Petunia only knew so much, going to places with her sister, almost twenty years ago. Her knowledge of the wizarding world wasn't much more affluent than his own. Vernon knew nothing other than it, unfortunately, it existed.

However, what he _did _know, was how to get to it. Having bombarded Petunia's mind, he knew how to get to a place called the '_Leaky Cauldron_'. He knew that past there, he would find a brick wall that seemed to be a dead end. Harry always wondered why they would make an illusion like that, when the whole pub had muggle precautions such as '_forget-me-not_' charms and '_muggle repelling_' charms. It all seemed pretty redundant to him. Then again, the wizarding world didn't go unnoticed for as long as it had without taking over zealous precautions, he reasoned.

Snapping himself out of his own musings, Harry continued down the road, headed towards a small hut he had created when he was younger. Seeing it in the distance, he could still remember the reason he had created it. He was about six. For some reason he thought that the small '_house_', he had called it, would protect him from Dudley and his gang of ruffians. That hadn't lasted long when they had come and dragged him out of it...

…........................

_"Come on, Potter!" Dudley called from outside of his safe haven, "Let's see what your ugly mug looks like when we beat the fuck out of you, you piece of shit!"_

_Dudley had just turned seven, and he thought that swearing was cool. Of course, it was, at the time, but that didn't make it any less ridiculous to Harry. The whole idea of words being called '_bad_', seemed stupid to him. Dawning words as such did nothing but make people _want_ to use them more. He wondered what would have happened if no one had knighted the infamous words as '_swear_' words. Would the world be as bad as it was today? Harry knew from what he caught on the news every once again that most gang violence and the problems in society today, were from confrontation. __Confrontation that was often spawned, or fueled, by cursing._

_"Ya, Potter!" came one of Dudley's cronies, knowing that the _'Potter_' kid, was scrawny and couldn't defend himself well. "Get your fucking arse out here!" Well, okay, at all._

_Not wanting to comply, mostly because he knew they _would_ be able to beat him up without much resistance from him, he stayed inside of his makeshift hut. No one had ever cared to take him to self defense classes. Not only that, but years of near starvation didn't do much to make you fit._

_Dudley broke the door, if you could call it that, down and stood in front of Harry with his hands on his hips as if to say, '_Ya. I'm bad ass._'. However, because even at seven Dudley was still the size of a small hammerhead shark, it didn't look impressive at all. As a matter of fact, if the situation wasn't what it was, and Harry wasn't scared to death, he would probably chuckle at the obscene sight before him. But, as it was, he just shrunk back against the back wall trying to make himself invisible._

_"What're ya ganna do now, fuckface?" taunted Dudley, "Think you can take me on, shrimp?" He stood over Harry, his shadow covering most of the small hut in front of him, darkening it. He smirked at Harry, enjoying the look that was currently displayed across his face._

_"Why can't you just leave me alone, Dudley?" Harry sniveled, still trying to think of a way out of his current predicament. There was only one exit. An exit in which Dudley had covered pretty well, considering his size. Harry knew he could just break one of the walls down, but Dudley would get to him before he could actually make his escape outside of it. "What have I ever done to you?"_

_Dudley looked momentarily confused, as if he was actually considering what Harry had said, a thoughtful look on his face. Taking his chance, Harry slowly backed up towards one of the walls, ready to push against it with all his body weight, which honestly would have trouble moving a sheep if it didn't want to move, and make his escape. Dudley, noticing his movements, snapped out of his train of thought and moved forward, grabbing Harry by the scruff of his collar._

_"You didn't think you were really going to get away from me, did you, you fucking bastard?" He sneered, as he threw Harry out of the hut, into the waiting arms of Dudley's thugs. Each of them holding one of his arms, Dudley walked forward, having thrown Harry a considerable distance, and pulled his arm back, before thrusting it forwards and hitting him in the gut._

_All the air left his lungs and he tried to bend forward in an attempt to lessen the amount of his body showing, only to have himself pulled up again by Dudley's gang. The onslaught continued, Dudley punching him everywhere he could reach. When Dudley was done, sweating and panting, his gang dropped him. Harry fell to his knees and clutched at his stomach, trying in vain to crawl away, only to topple over on his belly, rolling over to his back. Before the bullies left, one of them, Harry wasn't sure which, took one last kick at his face, promptly knocking him out, knowing that later he would probably be isolated to his cupboard for coming home late._

…_........................_

Harry sighed. All that was behind him now. Now _he_ was the one who made the rules. _He_ was the one who decided what went on in his life. No one could tell him what to do. He was sick and _tired_ of his life being controlled by the Dursley's. Now, no one could. He continued his pondering until he reached his hut. He entered and looked around. The hut was smaller, it seemed. It was quite obvious he was the one who had changed in height, however.

Harry sat in the far corner of the small '_house_' and looked at the makeshift walls, sunlight glimmering through them. "_Well,_" he thought, "_At least I don't have to deal with the _Dud_leys today._" Harry laughed at his own pun and thought about how true it seemed, no matter how lame the joke had been. He mused a bit more before sitting up and, slapping the dirt of his legs, thought about a dark, secluded area around the Leaky cauldron. The telltale signs of his success came, compressing his stomach into a tight ball and making him lightheaded.

His feet felt heavy for a second after his arrival in London. Stumbling a bit, not quite used to using that form of transportation, Harry walked out of the shack near the Leaky Cauldron and looked around a bit. He could see buildings that seemed to stretch for miles.

"_Much different from Privet Drive,_" Harry thought, recalling the rows and rows and identical buildings. "_Vernon would have kittens if he had to live here._"

Harry finished looking at a few of the places around him and, making a mental note to come back later and look at a few of the _tourist attractions_, headed towards the rundown building that he could just make out past all of the muggles walking around. When he reached his destination, he craned his neck upwards to read the sign that was placed above the door. It read, '_The Leaky Cauldron , 1917-'._

Finally entering the building, for the first time, Harry headed towards the bartender. As he started walking, however, he heard a collective gasp from the people around them. Looking around, he noticed everybody in the tavern was looking at him. Some of their mouths were hanging open, some of them had fallen over or fainted. The one he noticed the most, however, was the one still sitting down, not looking, and quietly drinking what looked to be some sort of liquor. The only difference, was a slight fiery aura around the cap, which looked to lead down into the bottle.

Harry wasn't sure what was going on. Why was it such a surprise for him to be here? Was he supposed to have someone escort him? In the memories he saw from Petunia, his mother, Lily, had always come with her parents. Was that some sort of tradition or maybe a law, and he wasn't following it? Berating himself for overlooking something so trivial, Harry glanced around a couple times before getting the courage to move. As he stepped forward, some people moved forward, while others just slumped against the walls, trying to hide their faces.

He stopped walking. Now people were coming _after_ him. "_What the hell is going on?_" Harry thought, frantically trying to figure out what to do. He didn't want to move, because he wasn't sure if that would anger them, so he stood still and waited for the first person to greet him. The greeting however, was not what he was expecting.

"Harry Potter, sir. It's such a _pleasure_ to finally meet you!" Exclaimed the first gentleman, holding his hand out for Harry to shake. He took the mans hand and pumped it twice before the gentleman was pushed to the side and another gentleman came up to Harry.

"Lord Potter! I've waited all my life to meet you! We all owe you, sire!" He said, very quickly, grabbing his hand and shaking it, tears escaping his eyes. "If there's anything I can do, kind sir, I'd be willing! Just Ask!"

Not used to all the attention, Harry greeted a few more people, and attempted to get out of the crowd, pushing himself past them, saying greetings and farewells as he went. Feeling quite enamored, he finally made it to the bar and slumped into one of the stools that sat before it. Tom, unlike most of the other people, did not rush to greet him. Instead, he smiled from afar and started whistling as he cleaned a dirty glass. When Harry looked at the glass again, he realized that it was the same glass the tender had been cleaning for the past six minutes.

"What is with all these people?" Harry asked, exasperatedly, "I don't even _know _them. So how in god's name do they _know_ me?" He put his head down on the table and covered it with his arms. This isn't what he wanted. He wanted to be normal. At the Dursley's he had been special. Not in a good way, but special all the same. Now he thought he had a chance to be normal and it was crushed, for no apparent reason.

His anger started rising, and he was lifted slightly from the ground, still sitting on the barstool. Realizing what he was doing, he tried to control his anger, pushing his will into the chair, making it float effortlessly back to the ground, hoping that no one noticed the sudden movement. That seemed pretty unlikely, however, considering that almost every eye in the pub was still on him.

Finally, the bartender sighed and looked at Harry, "That question would best be answered by someone else, sonny." Harry groaned and got up from the table. Heading to the back entrance, he was greeted yet again by more well-wishers, shaking many more hands before the door was finally in front of him. Blowing a little air rout of his mouth, he waved to the growing crowd behind him, and opened the door, and closed it after he stepped through.

Glad to be away from the crowd, Harry stepped forward to the brick wall before him and counted the bricks. Finding the one that was indented, he pressed his finger to it, before pressing the other ones that he had noticed in Petunia's memory, in the exact order he saw it. As he finished, he waited for the bricks to slide apart. They never opened.

Feeling his anger rise again, already still angry from realizing he was once again not someone who could just blend in with society, he pressed on the wall, with both hands, and pushed. The bricks shifted slightly. Chuckling slightly, Harry willed the bricks to move, thinking of the movements he saw in his aunt's mind, and pushed his magic into it. Feeling his success he opened his eyes to see the town in front of him. It was even more impressive than he thought it would be.

Feeling elated, he took his first _official_ steps into the magical world.

**A/N_ – _**_Well, this chapter's done. It was specifically hard because I suck at starting stories, TBH. Hope you liked it. I was amazed at all the responses and reviews I got. I'm glad I changed my email when I submitted the story, because my mailbox got filled, _really_ quick. Anyways, there _is_ a few things I want to address. Harry Potter will _NOT_ start off evil. It's going to take time. I want to ease him into it. The main reason for this, to be honest, is for your benefit. It's for quality reasons. I want to show the reasons for what he does, not just start him off evil. If I did, it would make it even more of an AU than it already is. Another thing, while Harry's magic is fueled by his anger, and he does have a lot of anger. He's not going to be ready to fight Voldemort _or_ Dumbledore his first year. Besides those, I hope you guys like the first chapter. I'm starting on the second one either tonight or tomorrow._


	3. Hermione Granger

* * *

**_A/N_**_– I'm making this chapter much, much, much, longer than the others, to make up for being so late. D= Real A/N at the end._

* * *

**_Disclaimer:_**_ I don't own the potter-verse or any of the series of "Harry Potter" books. But I can guarantee you if I DID, Ginny would be somewhere off with some bloke while Harry would be soaking up the sun on some nude beach with Hermione. But, alas, I don't, so Harry got stuck with a love potion slipping, fame obsessed, 10 cent back alley crack whore. No offense to all you HP/GW shippers._

**Chapter Two – Hermione Granger**

A young, raven haired boy made his through the brick doorway and set his eyes upon his world for the first time. His mouth slightly open, the boy looked at the hidden alley with fascination. There were doorways everywhere, signs hanging from almost every single one of them. People with hats from the tales of old, the points reaching up to the sky, walked around the slightly crowded business street, while people in ordinary, and inordinate, clothing did the same.

Done, for the moment, feasting his eyes upon the most amazing place he had ever seen, he set out for the first place that he knew he had to go, before anywhere else. Gringotts Bank. Of course, the first place he wanted to go was the wand shop, but he couldn't very well buy one with the few pounds he had in his back pocket. Beginning his miniature trek, he walked forward at a steady pace, viewing the walls on his sides for a sign that would indicate his future bank. After almost an hour of walking, Harry decided it would be best to ask someone where he needed to go. Stepping over to a side-alley off of Diagon's main road, he concentrated on his looks, altering them enough where he wouldn't be noticeable. Being unable to completely hide his scar, Harry made his hair grow a bit longer, covering it mostly from view.

Harry stepped out of the side alley and walked forward, looking for someone who could assist him. He looked around and, not seeing anyone who looked like he would want to willing talk to, turned, running smack dab into another person. Feeling slightly upset that someone had carelessly walking into him, even though he realized to an extent it was his fault, he opened his mouth to snap at said person, before he saw her.

A young girl, about his age, was on the ground in front of him, where she had apparently fell over from the collision. She was slender, even plain looking, but something about her made his irritation vanish. Maybe it was her bushy, brown hair; the way it seemed to bounce on her head, skimming her shoulders, every time she made even the slightest of movements. Or maybe it was how, when he looked into them, he could see the intelligence coming from her eyes in waves, radiating off of everything around her. Deciding that he could no longer be even the slightest bit angry, or even irritated, at this person – he seemed to see how it was his fault in the first place.

Blushing slightly, Harry bent down and offered a hand to her. She looked at it for a moment before grabbing his with her own. At the touch, Harry got goosebumps, as a slight shock went through his arm, causing the small hairs at the back of his neck to stand up. His blush increasing, Harry pulled slightly, using his weight to pull hers. As she was righted on her feet she looked at him and he heard her voice for the first time.

"You know, you should _really_ watch where you're going next time." She huffed, arms crossed over her chest. Harry stared at her for a second, before he realized what she said. His anger got the best of him. How could she? It was an accident after all, wasn't it? And he even helped her up. What was her problem?

"I should watch where _I'm_ going?" he retorted, slightly surprised still, even though his temper was mainly in control. "If I remember correctly, you ran into me just as much as I ran into you." Her face darkened slightly as she looked into his eyes, seemingly trying to pierce his soul. He felt that slight calmness come over him again as he looked into her eyes, once again his anger slightly going away.

"Well maybe if y--" Harry put his hand over her mouth to make her be quiet. This apparently wasn't the right thing for him to do, as he almost blushed again. Her lips were soft. Shaking his head slightly he tried to calm himself down and spoke simply.

"I'm sorry. It was _my _fault." Harry tried to figure out, after he said it, why _he_ was the one apologizing. He figured it was, really, his fault – but that didn't mean he _had_ to be polite. As he was lost in his thought, forgetting, almost, about the girl in front of him, she licked his hand. His mouth opened into a slight 'o' as he pulled his hand away from her mouth and looked at it, a small amount of clear liquid with slight bubbles near one of the edges was on his palm. Frowning slightly, he wiped it on his pants.

"Not funny," Harry said, as he looked at the bushy haired girl standing before him. "You couldn't have warned me first?" She titled her head a bit, as if contemplating what he had said, she answered a moment later.

"Why should I warn you, when you're the one who put your hand over my mouth?" she questioned. Before he could answer, his mouth open to start talking, even, she spoke again, adding onto her previous question. "When _you_ never gave warning in the first place?" The continuation pretty much ended his rebuttal and he just poked her in the side, earning a squeal.

"What was _that_ for?" she asked, her eyes furrowed, in thought, and yet knitted slightly together as if to glare at him. "_Completely_ unwarranted." He smirked slightly at her before answering, deciding to be a bit coy and joke around. It had been a long while since he had last done that. As he thought about it, he couldn't really think about any time he had ever played around. That's of course _not _including the great fun he had with the Dursley's after he figured out about his abilities.

"Well, you were right." Harry said simply, before answering more, "However, that doesn't mean you won – because I was the one with the last poke now, wasn't I?" He smiled slightly at the look he received from her. For no reason other than he felt compelled to do so, Harry looked around, noticing a clock. It was getting late.

"Listen," He spoke again, cutting off anything she was going to say, "Can you help me look for something?" As the words 'you' and 'help' and 'me' left his mouth, her mood considerably brightened, a slight spark going off behind her eyes. She smiled brightly, beaming even, and nodded her head a bit vigorously. If not too much, as she started to replicate a bubble-head doll he had seen at a gas station before.

Taking that as a yes, he continued. "I need help looking for a wizarding bank called 'Gringotts'." He said, before finishing his statement with a question, "Do you know where it's at."

She frowned before poking him in the shoulder. A bit taken aback he asked, if not exasperatedly, "What was the for?" Pushing his irritation away, not feeling the need to use it, he awaited an answer.

"Are you serious?" She huffed and looked up. Harry followed her eyes and saw a sign above his head. The yellow, emblazoned sign clearly had the words etched into the side of it, the name of the location in which he was looking for. A bit dumbfounded, Harry frowned too. "You've got to be kidding me." He couldn't believe he had wasted all this time and yet he was right where he needed to be. What a farce. He looked at her inquiringly before speaking, a bit embarrassed of himself. "Ermm... Thanks..?"

A smile came back on her face as she started giggling at his slight slip of mind. This was really not the best thing for her to do, maybe not for herself – but for Harry, as he blushed even darker than after he had realized he was standing under his own destination without realizing it. He was still trying to figure out how she could mix simple beauty with intelligence and not become atrocious. The girls at _his_ schools were either nerdy or girly. Neither very appealing. Wondering if everyone in his world was so amazing, and feeling angry again that this world had been barred from him for so long, he failed to notice the girl in front of him trying to get his attention. That was achieved, of course, by the snapping of her fingers in front of his face. As he left his thoughts, he looked at her and grinned, sheepishly.

He stretched out his hand again, this time in not an attempt to help her up, but to meet her acquaintance. "Er – my name is Harry. Harry Potter.". At this, many gasps could be heard around them. Just as the mysteriously unknown girl in front of him was going to grasps his hand, she was pushed aside by quite a few more than twenty witches and wizards much older than herself. In a couple of seconds from his name being heard people gathered around him and looked at him.

"'E don't look nuffink like 'Arry Potta." said a gruff looking man, the smell of some sort of liquor still evident on his breath. As the crowd got large, the middle getting smaller and smaller, the noise and voices got louder and more upset. Many "How dare you.."s were thrown at him before his anger got a hold of him. He was _trying_ to have a conversation with someone. Once again, something about him wasn't normal. He was tired of it. All he _ever_ wanted was to fit in with others.

"Go away..." he muttered, lightly. They didn't stop, maybe they didn't hear them. His anger from the pub returned and his need for being heard came out. He said slowly, but loudly. His voice reverberating around the alley. ".Be." Everyone was stunned for a moment before someone's in the back spoke up.

"'Ay Sunny. Who do you think you are, talkin' to us like that, eh?" the voice came, the man, who the voice came from, was blocked from view by the rest of the crowd. That was it. The crowd broke, the silence ended. Everyone started jeering again, pushing started, and people started being moved unwillingly, as those who were being pushed, shoved others because of their unwilling momentum. The crowd started shifting, the noise getting louder. All harry wanted was to do was be where he needed. He needed to go to Gringotts so he could get his money and go shopping for his school supplies. Suddenly, he didn't want to be here anymore. And then, he wasn't.

He squinted his eyes, and thought of the inside of Gringotts – the memories from Petunia at the forefront of his mind. Just as he was wishing to be there, it came true. The noise died suddenly and got quiet. He looked around and was on the inside of the majestic bank. He looked behind him, through the doors, and could still see the crowd of people. Their voices, however, could not be heard from the inside of this virtual palace. Harry wanted to stand around and admire the bank. It was nothing like Petunia's memories. It was much better. Much more... everything. He knew, however, that he couldn't doddle anymore. He had things to do. Moving forward, having transported himself closer to the cashier then he had planned, he stopped shortly after he began, reaching the teller. He looked up at the high stand, a goblin atop. They, like the bank, were much more than the memories could give. Unlike the stellar bank he was currently in, however, the goblins seemed worse. Deciding not to dwell on it, he spoke as politely as he could, despite the fact that he was still in a bad mood from his encounter with a mob earlier. He figured anyone would be shook up about being, practically, attacked by a group of people twenty years older then themselves before even their preteen years.

"Excuse me..." his voice was a bit cracked, so he cleared his throat, "Excuse me. My name is Harry Potter, I've come to withdrawal some money from my vault." He didn't know _much_ about his world, but he knew that his father was quite wealthy before he had died in that car crash, ten years ago.

"Key...?" The teller, an older looking goblin, even though they all looked old, rasped to him. His voice grinding Harry's earlobes like glass. Harry put his hand in his pocket and fished around for the silver piece that the goblin had asked for. He found it about two years ago among the Dursley's things. The key itself not seeming like something they would have any use for, Harry, which he had become accustomed to, probed Petunia's mind for the answer. That was also how he figured out that he _should_ have no problem with school expenses. He was absolutely loaded.

The goblin looked the key over and mumbled to himself before calling another goblin over. "Griphook! We have young Mister Potter here for vault 319. See to it that he makes it there." A shorter, younger looking goblin, Harry was still trying to figure out how he could tell the difference in their age, they all looked so similar – he figured it must be some sort of 'wizard instinct', came over to him and grabbed the key from the teller before looking to Harry and speaking, in a less annoying, and raspy voice, "Come with me please."

One death defying roller-coaster ride later left Harry panting at his vault, with a goblin smirking slightly at his posture. "Couldn't you have gone _any_ slower?" Harry asked, still out of breath from all the screaming he had done. The goblin merely snorted at him and mumbled, "One speed only." and walked towards the vault that the cart had left them in front of. Pushing the key in and turning it to the left, before lifting it upwards, turning it right, and then dropping it again, he pulled it out, and the vault clicked. The door made a couple of noises before finally opening, the obviously heavy metal sliding open with ease from the goblin's trained touch.

Inside the vault was a vast amount of gold. An amount he never would have though possible for himself, even though he knew he was wealthy. Stacks and stacks lined the walls of the large, in width and height, safe-like structure of the practical mansion before them. Stacks that reached the cealing. All of it gold. Harry was dumbfounded as he looked to the goblin, his shock evident. The goblin smiled crookedly and asked Harry if he would like to know the balance. He simple nodded, still at a loss for words, and the goblin read him the price that he knew.

"Based on the last time we checked your vault for income, because of it's changes with most of it being invested in stock, which was six weeks ago, tomorrow, you currently have approximately sixteen million galleons, twelve sickles, and three knuts. Of course you have thousands of sickle coins and thousands of knuts, however – we round it up here so you don't have to do the math." The goblin said all of this rather quickly, but Harry still managed to pick up what was said. His reply caught in his throat as he stepped forward with his money bag and started scooping some of his gold into it.

Finally gaining the ability to speak again, Harry asked the goblin, "Is it _really_ safe for me to walk around with my gold..?" The goblin merely smiled and shook his head.

"Of course not." was his reply, "Times have been trying lately. You would think with you-who-must-not-be-named gone that the economy would be doing wonderful. Apparently, many of the major companies that supplied weaponry to the government for the aurors went out of business without a war. Without those companies, stocks plummeted, families went bankrupt, the ministry starting giving out help, and now everyone's poor." Harry, like most of what the goblin had already said, picked up most of what he said. Unfortunately, did didn't understand what he did hear, and he was pretty confused. Deciding to just leave it alone he nodded dumbly before looking to the goblin. "Is there anything else that's needed before I leave?"

"No, sir," the goblin said, smirking. "If that's all, we'll be leaving." On the ride back up, Harry didn't have anything else that was needed, he asked the goblin, about his safety and money. "Is their anyway to keep my money safe while it's on me?"

"Sir," The goblin replied, his voice raised so he could be heard over the rushing wind of the cart going so fast, "Gringotts has a few safety measures that should keep you safe from being mugged, however, they're rarely used and only most noble families use them."

Harry thought it over before nodding, it made sense, and looking to the goblin again. "I think I'd like to use them all." The goblin smirked and the ride ended. Harry got his gold, which he had come for, and a few safety measures before walking out of the door. The mob that was present before was gone, and Harry willed his look to change, as to not again raise suspicion.

As he looked for his next destination, "Ollivander's Fine Wands", he viewed a few of the finer points he hadn't seen before. These finer points included a place he would end up going before Ollivander's. "Eeylops Owl Emporium". He walking quickly over to the store, still hoping to not be noticed, and entered, a dinging above his head went off, signifying his entrance. He looked around and spotted a few interesting looking birds.

Harry walked up to the cashier and, before he could speak, she spoke for him. "Hogwarts, first year?" Of course, she was spot on, but he didn't like being predictable, so he pulled an easy lie. "No, I'm a second year... does it matter?" She was a bit flustered that she had been wrong but passed it off.

"No worries," she said, looking at him. "Do I know you..? You seem familiar." Her eyes darted to his forehead. Thankfully, even after changing his appearance, he had kept his hair long enough to cover his scar. "No, I don't think so ma'am. I'm sure I would remember."

She sighed, "Maybe so... I should get out more.." She huffed and cracked her fingers. Harry flinched before she apologized, "Sorry, bad habit. What can I do you for, anyways?" Harry looked around, "Erm.. I came looking for... an Owl."

The girl rolled her eyes at him. Of course he was, he was in an Owl shop. She sighed again. "Any specific kind, sir?" His anger was starting to rise at her impatience with him.

"No, I think I'll just browse around." And with that, he walked away, before he did something he knew he would regret later.

Browsing the shelves, he came upon a lot of birds that he felt would be fine. He knew from first hand experience from getting his letter, and from knowledge through Petunia's memories, that owls delivered mail in the wizard world – so he knew that his own personal owl would be very beneficial. Thankfully, they were allowed – as said the bottom of his letter. None of them, however, seemed to have the right.. spark to them. Coming across the last row, they were all empty. Curious as to why that was, he spotted his reasoning. A beautiful, white, snow owl was perched all alone in her small cage. Something about the owl clicked, and he knew she was the one. Amber eyes met green, and he made his mind up. He called the cashier over, "Ma'am, I'll take this one." She nodded and took the owl.

After about twenty minutes of filling out paperwork, the owl was almost his. He only needed one more thing. A name. Stumped, and finding no names that fit. Not really his own fault though. He thought he had a pretty few good names until every times he suggested one the owl would give a hoot of indignation as if to say, _'Ohhh, no, no, no, no. You will _not_ be calling me that.' _Getting a little frustrated he looked to the cashier.

"Any ideas?" He asked her, a slight pleading look in his eyes. She looked at the owl, and then back at him, before repeating her cycle a couple times. She finally snapped her fingers and rubbed the top of the owl's head with her index finger. "She looks like a 'Hedwig', to me." The owl's eyes lit up and she hooted happily.

Harry groaned and agreed. It was time to leave. "Would you like a cage, sir?" Harry looked around and asked, "Which is the best?" She pointed to a golden one in the corner and he grabbed that. No sense in being cheap. It was a bit large, but he figured it would be alright. He was a wizard, he could easily lighten his load. Paying for the owl, Hedwig, and the cage, Harry left the emporium, and headed towards the wand shop.

Finally seeing his destination about thirty yards away, Harry walked quickly to the store, setting Hedwig down outside of the door where he could see her, and yet not have to deal with her inside of the shop. As he entered, he heard a mysterious voice in the back. "I was _wondering_ when I'd be seeing _you_ Mr. Potter."

An hour later, Harry walked out of the shop with his wand. He was flustered at the information that his wand had a brother that had given him his scar. He had also learned the truth of his parents, anger set in.

* * *

_"I was _wondering _when I'd be seeing _you_ Mr. Potter." came a mysterious voice from the back of the shop in which Harry had just entered. He looked upon the man. He had white hair, obvious signs of aging, and was quite stout. He looked a bit underweight for his height, but not alarmingly slow._

_"Is that so?" Harry asked, questioningly. He wasn't sure how this man, let alone all of the rest of Diagon Alley, knew him._

_"Oh yes, I remember when your mother and father were in here buying there own wands." Harry was shocked at hearing the man had such a memory, as he learned that Ollivander had not only memorized the day his parents had come in, but what their wands had been. He later found out, that he had not only memorized his parents, but _everyone_ who had ever set foot in his doors._

_After a _very_ awkward conversation with the aging man before him, he tried out a few wands. The first six had no response to him whatsoever, while the others merely destroyed things. It seemed that with each passing failure, however, that Ollivander got more and more exited. For what, Harry couldn't tell._

_After a half an hour of wand searching, Ollivander stopped in front of one of the shelves in the back. He grabbed another box and brought it forward, setting it on the table in front of Harry. He could just make out what the man was mumbling under his breath. _"I wonder..." _Harry picked the wand up and immediately knew it was his. His arm grew warm and sparks came from the top of his wand. Ollivander was a very hard read. He looked delighted, confused, exited, and amazed, all at the same time. It only added to the 'insane' level that Harry had started building upon the man._

_"Interesting..." Ollivander said... "Very... Interesting." Harry was confused and cocked his head to the side a bit, "Sir, what's confusing.. sir?"_

* * *

How could they _not_ have told him? All these years he had been kept in the dark. He was also angry with himself. "_How could I have _not_ made that connection_" he thought to himself, "_It was so.. so.. _obvious". Berating himself as he was walking, he accidentally stumbled into someone again.

He fell over, landing on his buttocks as he hit the ground. He looked up to see who he had run into, ready to get in a fight after the news he had just learned, when he saw her again. She looked at him confused, his mystery girl did, as she saw him. "You look... familiar." she said. Harry shifting his appearance back to what guise he was using before, and she gasped.

"It's you!" she said, shocked. Harry grinned sheepishly as he looked at her, he shocked face extremely cute, open in it's small 'o'. "But – But.. How did you.. _do_ that?" Harry's grin was wiped off his face as it was his turn to be confused, yet again today.

"Do what..?" He asked, genuinely having no idea what she was asking him, at all.

"_That,_" she said, pointing at him, as if that would answer his question. Seeing the confused face he was still wearing after he great and very descriptive answer, she groaned. "_That!_ You changed your appearance without a potion! How?"

"Oh that..?" Harry asked, still kind of confused. "Erm – I dunno.. I just.. did."

The girl, at this point, was getting exasperated. "You can't just _do_ something like th--" she stopped mid-sentence. "Oh, never mind." she huffed, offering her hand. "Do you want help up?"

"Tha'd be nice," he said, accepting her hand, the touch sending a shiver through his arm again, and he blushed. He didn't, however, notice the same one that came to her face, as she grinned, hiding her face in her hair for a moment while she got herself under check.

"So," Harry said, "You know me.. May I know you're name?"

The girl thought back to their meeting before and how she was shoved away from him. "Ya.. I couldn't really tell you earlier, could I?" She asked, rhetorically. "My names Hermione. Hermione Granger."

**A/N – **So! How did you guys like the chapter? I tried to keep to personalities, while making Harry's a bit darker. Because I took Hagrid out of the equation with Harry getting his letter correctly the first time, I had to think of another way for Harry to figure out about his parents. After all, he couldn't hate them forever, thinking that his father was a drunkard who ran the car off the road. All Harry knew was that a lot of the attention he was getting had something to do with his scar.

And yes – in this story I am deciding to make Harry a metamorphmagus, for those who didn't catch it. This is simply because I think that Harry figuring out and honing his powers earlier in life would have given him more options. I don't think magic can just magically bring back someone's hair after having it all cut off without some sort of way to channel it into other parts of their bodies. Thus, my excuse for giving Harry the ability is this. Being beaten DID have an effect on him, and his wanting to conform to the Dursley's standards and just be normal, he mentally suppressed his metamorphmagus abilities. He never really got over the abuse he got from them during the books, which is why it never came into play. In MY story, he stopped the abuse 4-5 years early, allowing him access to all of his abilities, as none of them were suppressed. Also – Having a couple years of practice, without a wand, thus wandless magic, before Hogwarts, Harry WILL be advanced and ahead of most of the students there.

I want to address a couple things, before I thank you all for the amazing support and all the great reviews I've gotten. This is NOT going to be a "Harry Angry At The World" story. His motives will NOT be revenge or hate. Right now – as many fanfic authors in my opinion fail to realize, Harry is just a CHILD. He is not going to be evil right off the bat – and when he does become evil, he's not going to be super-sadistic like Voldemort. I don't plan on making Harry something too gar out of his personality, just different in certain aspects. He's going to be overly ambitious. My reasoning being, once again, when he stopped the abuse. I believe in the stories he didn't have ambition because of the fact that he wanted to lay as low as possible with the Dursley's. Having gotten out of the abuse sooner, he could form goals before Dumbledore shaped his mind.

One more thing, or two depending on how you look at it, Harry will NOT be on good terms with the most of the Weasley's, or Dumbledore. This, however, is by no means a story that will bash them constantly – they just won't be... on the same side.

Now, I would like to thank everyone for the _astounding_ amount of support I have gotten. I have read every review and while I might not reply to all of them, a few I do, I read and appreciate every single one I get. Thank you to everyone who has made my story a favorite, or me their favorite author even! It means a lot and gave me motivation to make this chapter.

I promise to update at least once a month, withdrawing my promise of twice a week I made last time. With school starting, I just won't be able to do it. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. The next one will be out before or on October 11th.


	4. Where one chapter Ends, another Starts

**Disclaimer:** _Don't own it. Want it, but don't own it. I wonder if J.K. Rowling even reads fanfiction...Oohh Shiny! =D Kevin Brooks is a great author, but I don't own any of his characters, plots, or anything really. Too bad._

**Authors Note: **_This chapter will earn my 'M' rating. Torture scenes near the end. If you don't like such things, either skip them, or stop reading this story. :(_

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**Chapter 3 - Where one chapter ends, another starts.**

"Well, Hermione" The raven haired boy said, getting up, thanks to a bushy haired girl pulling on his arm, leaning back slightly, who was now known as the girl, Hermione. Maybe it was the fact that she was the first girl his age who was just like him, that made him feel the way about her that he did. "Sorry about bumping into you.. again." Brushing his shoulders off a bit.

"No problem" She said, scratching her head a bit. "Where were you headed, anyways?"

Harry was a bit taken aback by the question, not expecting to have to think anytime soon, still staring at Hermione. "Umm. Well, I just got some money and got my wand.. so I was thinking about going to Flourish and Blotts. My aunt told me that's where I'm supposed to go to get books from this world. You?"

Hermione's eyes lit up, before she starting speaking, a big goofy smile on her face, "Oohh you too? I was just getting ready to go there as well. Supposedly we get all our school books there. I planned on buying more than just those though. Maybe read ahead a little bit to be ready for this year and the next, as well! After all, I have lots of learning to do because I just got my letter and had no idea withes and wizards existed. I mean, for real. How about you? Have you known about magic for a long time? I would suppose not by the way you said 'this world', but I can't be one-hundred percent sure, after all, I don't know everything about magic and wizarding culture, yet."

Harry's eyes were open wide and his mouth hung open for a second before he regained conscious thought and tried to figure out how to answer all her questions. He supposed answering them all in turn would be the best choice. "Yeah, I was going to head to the shop too. I wanted to make sure I was ready for school, just like you." He smiled a bit before answering her next question. He was new to magic as well. He _knew_ about it. But had no practice. "I'm new to magic, just like you are. I have done, what I believe they call, 'accidental magic' though."

Hermione smiled a bit. No one had ever answered her without being a bit frightened from the ferocity of her need for knowledge. It was a bad habit, on her part of course, to get a bit carried away when meeting new people, especially when she was nervous, but she didn't see the point in really changing it. Either someone liked her, or they didn't. Having no friends, however, her plan hadn't worked out the way she had planned it to. "Accidental Magic? That's what it's called? I accidentally blew up the dining room table once. Mum didn't believe that it wasn't me though. She wasn't very happy. Makes more sense now, though."

The boy laughed a bit at the thought of this girl blowing up a table. Shards of wood flying everywhere and smashing into people, making them bleed, hurt, and suffer, was funny to him. The fact that it was a girl, just made it all the more hilarious. '_Must be a boy thing',_ he thought. "Why did you blow the table up?"

Hermione blushed a little before speaking again. "I stubbed my toe. Then when I kicked it for being in my way, it hurt me."

Harry stared for a second before busting into laughter. After a moment Hermione joined him, each of them holding onto each other for support. "You know," Harry started to speak after he could say something without it coming out in short breaths, "I set a Boa loose in a zoo before. On Accident." Harry added the lie in at the end. He didn't want to scare his new friend away.

Harry stuck his hand out with a wave and bent his back a bit, as if he was asking, '_May I have this dance?_'. "So, ready to go?" He queried.

"Go, erm, where?" She asked, momentarily confused.

"The _book store_ of course!" Harry said, showing mock shock at someone forgetting about _books_ of all things. Grabbing her arm, he dragging her off, pulling her in the direction of Flourish and Blotts.

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As they stepping foot in the amazingly large book store. Or library, whichever would seem more acceptable for the large amount of books on display. 'Library Store', maybe. Or perhaps 'Bloody Hell, look at all these _books_' would have been a good title for the paradise they had just stepped into. Harry just knew that 'Flourish and Blotts, book _store_' didn't fit correctly. The young boy knew that his new friend was probably thinking the same thing.

"Bloody hell. Where do we start?" Harry asked, looking at Hermione. She gave him a playful smack on the arm for cursing.

"Watch your language. And we start by necessity first, silly." Hermione pulled out her book list and started scanning through it. "How about the 'Standard Book of Spells'?" She started walking off in the direction of rows designated for school books and then scanned for the 'S's. "Aha! Found it."

Harry had followed her and saw her pick the book out. However, he had brought over a basket, unlike her. "Grade one?" He asked, he poked her in the side, "Might as well get all of them right?"

The bushy haired girl thought it over and agreed. After all, they were going to finished the first book eventually, and when they did, they'd need something else to read. Getting it now, would just cut down on wasted time. She liked how this boy thought.

A couple hours later, the two friends had filled six baskets. Thankfully, they had, or appeared to have, weightlessness charms on them, because no matter how many they put in one of them, they didn't weigh any more than a feather. Hermione carrying two, and Harry, the gentleman, carrying the other four, they went up to the front counter. They put their rather large selection onto the registry error and waited for a bill.

The man at the register looked at them and, thinking it was a joke for them to be getting so many books, shooed them away. After all, even if could read that much, there isn't anyway they could pay for it all.

Harry raised an eyebrow and willed the man to follow his command. Careful in the wording, as to not alert Hermione, "Just count it up and hand us the receipt, will you?" The man looked at the boy and reluctantly followed his commanding request. Hermione gaped at the price.

"Twelve hundred galleons?!" She screeched, surprised at the cost. "That's ridiculous! For books?" Harry smiled and told her to relax.

"It's fine, I can pay for this." He soothed, as he put his hand in his pocket. He felt a small tingle and knew that his protection charms were still up, only allowing _his_ hand in his pocket. He pulled out about six galleons before putting his hand back in his pocket and pulling out more. He had made sure the goblins added weightlessness and bottomless charms on his pocket, as well as other security measures, of course, but a thousand galleons was a lot. He was going to be standing her for a while fishing for coins.

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About thirty minutes after the coin fish parade started in Harry's pocket, Hermione and Harry were walking out of the store, each of them had a backpack full of their own books that they had bought from the store to help haul around their books.

"So, where are you headed next, Harry?" Hermione asked, a big smile on her face. This was one of the best days she had ever had. She wanted to keep spending time with Harry. Sheepishly grinning at the thought of going to the same school as him.

"Well," Harry began, "I _need_ to go to go get school clothes. But I have not the faintest clue of where to go to get them. Though, ice cream does sound good." Harry added the last bit after noticing an ice cream stand named after the owner, Fortescue. Harry eyed the various treats that the stand offered and looked to Hermione. She too looked succumbed to the allure of Fortescue's ice-cream.

"Yeah.. it does." Said the bushy haired girl, a slight dreamy tone to her voice. With a glance at each other, the two eleven year old soon to be student of Hogwarts set off towards the stand, a mission in mind.

As Harry was eating his sundae, Hermione her napoleon cone, they started talking. "What house do you think you'll be sorted into," Hermione asked first. Harry took another bite from his treat before answering.

"I'm not sure. Ambition, Bravery, Loyalty, and Intelligence. I have all four, I'm sure. As does everyone else in the world, to an extent. It seems silly to split people up based on those four aspects, don't you think?" Harry said and, after finishing his answering with another question, took another bite of his sundae.

"You didn't answer my question," Hermione had caught onto his scheme of changing the subject, but didn't push it. "I do know what you mean though. I think I'll be in Ravenclaw, personally. For me, it's either that or Slytherin. I'm not sure I'm a brave person, and I haven't had any friends to be loyal to. I think that takes out Hufflepuff and Gryffindor for me. I definitely have ambitions in life, for Slytherin, but aren't they all evil? I think I'd be best in Ravenclaw is all."

"Maybe. Maybe you're right." Was all Harry said. They spent the rest of their short break from shopping in silence, concentrating on eating their individual snacks.

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Harry and Hermione were walking around Diagon Alley, having just finished getting school robes from Madam Malkin's, when Harry realized something. Something that really _should_ have been more obvious sooner.

"Hermione?" Harry began, not really sure on how to ask. He wanted to know the answer, but he figured their _was_ a reason why she wasn't with her parents. Or why they hadn't run into them. You couldn't really get lost in Diagon Alley, considering it was, that, an Alley.

"Yes, Harry?" she responded. Hermione hadn't had many, or any at all, really, friends in her life. Spending the day with Harry had been, for lack of better vernacular, 'Just what the doctor had ordered'. A day away from her home. A day without taunts and jeers. A day with an actual friend. So far.

"Where are your parents?" Harry asked it as plain as he could. He made sure to keep any sort of suspicion or accusatory tones from his voice. He didn't want to set her off if she had, say, ditched her kin. Apparently, however, the question hit a mark, regardless of how it was asked, as her resulting anger showed.

"What do you mean where are _my_ parents?" She started, a feeling of rampage coming. Even at eleven, God had apparently felt the need to create a woman with the trademark 'set me off and I'll eat you alive' attitudes. "Where are _your_ parents? You don't see me trying to pester _you_ about where they are at, do you? Why does it matter _anyways_?I thought we could just have _fun_ without the need of silly parental guidance. Is that too much to ask?" Her momentary tirade was finished, but her attitude wasn't, as she stormed off, leaving Harry all alone to brood where he stood.

"What the _bloody_ hell was that?"

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Feeling dejected, and once again angry, Harry took his leave from Diagon Alley. After passing through the brick walls once again, into the Leaky Cauldron, Harry, making sure his disguise was back up, walked through the pub and out the door. Making sure that no one could see him in the dripping alley next to a local bank, Harry apparated back to the Dursley's home. A destination that he wasn't looking forward to going back to. However, he did have some steam to let off.

Arriving inside of the home, the loud crack from his apparition startling it's inhabitants, Harry went in search for Dudley. Finding him, after walking up the stairs of home and into his bedroom,playing a video game, he smiled. A wicked and deadly smile. Deciding to have some fun, he levitated the game console, and smashed it into the television, breaking them both in the process. As Dudley squeaked in a mixture of fear, anger, and confusion, Harry pointed his finger at him and, laughing, willed his magic to cause Dudley pain. Dudley writhed on the floor for ten minutes before Harry let up, leaving his sobbing cousin alone on the ground in the fetal position.

Using his magic to bounce a basketball from Dudley's room, Harry walked down the hallway and back down the stairs into the living room. Passing through the dining room and into the kitchen, where Petunia and Vernon were, he bounced the ball one last time before forcing it to fly into Vernon, smashing him in the chest and sending him flying backwards into the refrigerator. Petunia shrieked as the ball kept bouncing, hard, on Vernon's face after he was knocked unconscious. Blood spurted in all directions as the hard, ridged ball broke his nose. Deciding that he had had enough fun with Vernon, he willed the ball to smash into Vernon's bits one hard time, before becoming still, the overly large man still on the ground, taken down by a child's play toy.

Looking at Petunia, he merely laughed maniacally and screamed at the top of his lungs, "_BOO!_" causing her to faint. He walked over to her and kicked her in the stomach. Satisfied, for now, Harry went back up to his room, locking it. Pretty sure that even the cowardly Dursley's would attempt to attack him today after his display, or at least, most likely would, he used some power to move as much furniture against the door as possible, making it impossible for any normal person to get through. Making sure that the windows were secure, he went to sleep. His mind on Hermione. He liked her. Probably the only person he truly did like in this world. But his feelings were mixed. How dare she yell at him for asking a simple question? He would deal with it later.

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Harry opened his eyes, the sunlight directly in his face. A soft hoot could be heard from the corner of the room where his new owl was. He got up from bed and, stretching slightly, walked over to her, wiping his eyes as he went. He let her out of the cage and opened the window, allowing her to fly out. He wasn't cruel to animals. They, at least for now, hadn't done anything. His anger was reserved for the Dursley's and anyone else who pissed him off, really.

Deciding to look over the rest of his new collection of items, Harry first sorted his clothes and put them in the closet, grabbing a trunk and packing the robes. He wasn't going to back for school just yet, but he wasn't going to be wearing the robes over the summer, so leaving them about would have no point. Having one less thing to do later was always a good thing.

He did the same with his cauldron, setting it in the corner with his luggage. Sitting on the large couch in the master bedroom of No. 4 Privet Drive, Harry started reading his books. Starting with the standard book of spells. He was going to be ready and ahead of everyone when he got to school. He had a week to memorize everything in the thirty-seven books he had bought yesterday. This was going to be easy.

Many several hours later, when it was dark out, Hedwig, Harry's new owl, flew through the window with a dead rat in her beak. Harry put a book down for the first time, not including when he put one down to pick up another, he looked at the owl questioningly.

"Bring me dinner, Hedwig?" He asked the owl, of course not expecting an answer. The snowy owl hooted soothingly at him and dropped it in his lap, nipping his finger affectionately. "Well, you sure are the number one provider, aren't you?"

Taking out his wand, he decided to practice a couple spells. He pointed his new tool at the dead animal before him and using nonverbal magic, saying the spell in his head, transformed the rat into a overly large perch. Hedwig hooted in delight as Harry levitated it to a corner and set it down, immediately setting her talons on it, and relaxing after a long day's flight. Harry stood up and walked to her, deciding to scratch her head. The beautiful owl cooed and closed her eyes. Smiling at the amazing creature, Harry went back to his studying.

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One week after his encounter with Hermione Granger, Harry was waking up. It was finally the day that he would be embarking on a new journey in his life. Away from the Dursley's and away from this hell hole that encompassed his past life. He knew he would never be back. Instead of nostalgia, however, he felt the need to leave a message to the Dursley's. He wanted them to _never_ forget him.

Taking a couple of dead rodents out of his, as he called it, 'transfiguration box', Harry looked at them, hoping for inspiration. A small light bulb going off in his head sealed the fate of the other inhabitants of the suburban home. He pointed his wand at the first one and, using nonverbal magic once again, which he had read usually wasn't learned until fifth year classes, turned it into a bat with a small nail at the end.

The other one had the luck of people turned into a medieval scythe. Twirling the smallish scythe, after all it had to be his size to use it, he picked up the bat and walked out of his room. Whistling as he went, he smashed the bat over and over again into the walls, leaving small holes where the nail penetrated the fading wallpaper. Coming to the doorway of the adults of the house, Harry beat on the door with the bat. After getting no answer, Harry let himself in.

Petunia was naked on the bed, only a blanket keeping her dignity in tact. Vernon was just getting pants on when Harry barged in. His eyes bulged as the last thing he saw was a bat being aimed for his head. The nail went through his eye, blinding him in that side. His brain was purposely missed. After all, Harry didn't want to kill anyone. Yet. Vernon cried out, and yelped when his other eye received the same fate.

His face covered in splatter of blood and pus from Vernon's face, Harry smiled wickedly and sliced at Vernon's right arm with the overly sharp scythe, slicing it completely off. Smiling at his handiwork, Harry decided it would be best to cauterize the would, ensuring that his uncle wouldn't die before his time. Harry pointed his wand and shouted, _"Enflamare_". Vernon shouted in pain and writhed on the floor after the fire subsided, his arm no longer bleeding, but the pain still left behind.

Deciding that he didn't want to be scarred for life, completely, he left his naked aunt alone, fearing that we would see more than he wanted to should he do anything to her like he had to Vernon. Instead, he looked at her and, smiling evilly, spoke quietly, "Good-bye, aunt Petunia."

Not seeing Dudley on his way out, he left him be. Vernon's loss of an arm and sight would be enough for him. Before he left his childhood prison forever, he turned and cast a strong muggle repelling charm around the home. Ensuring that the inside inhabitants couldn't get out, and that help wouldn't come in. They would run out of food eventually and starve, as they had tried to do to him as a child.

Harry walked with a skip to his step to his old fort, and closed this chapter of his life off. He was starting a new one. Where he belonged. A loud crack was the last thing that the neighborhood of Little Whinging ever heard of Harry Potter.

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**Author's Note:** _Ya! I got to try out my deviousness this chapter! =D Thoughts, comments, and help is wanted! Leave a review, or drop a PM. This chapter, I believe, has officially made this story live up to __the rating I gave it at the beginning. I also want to note, once again, that Harry is ELEVEN! He's not going to start out completely psychotically abusive. This is not going to be a 'dark!Harry' story. It's going to be an 'evil!Harry' story, like I said. However – There is a difference between evil and insane. Voldemort, is insane. Harry will be evil. Regardless, I hope you guys liked the chapter. ^.^ _


	5. Of Trains and Hats

**Disclaimer:** _If I owned the Harry Potter canon ship, I would put Hermione and Harry next to each other. Or was it the alphabet...? Anyways, consequentially, I do not own Harry Potter. Bummer. I didn't make the sorting hat song in this chapter. I don't think enough has changed yet for me to create my own. Most likely in second year, though. Many changes from canon from here to there._

* * *

**Chapter Four – Of Trains and Sorting Hats**

"_Bloody hell_," came the sharp voice of an adolescent Harry Potter, "It's today then, isn't it?" Talking to himself as he rubbed the bogies from his eyes, he got up from his cot at the Leaky Cauldron and walked towards the door. He needed a shower. A hot, blood-boiling, and oh so merciful shower. The place smelled oddly of geese. Fertilizer.

"_Well,"_ Harry thought, "_I always know where to go if I want to smell like arse in the morning._" Walking into a few doorways and stubbing his toes a couple times, he found his way to the bathroom. Grabbing a towel from the stand near the toiler and setting it there, he got undressed. He turned the water on and turned the knob for it to come out of the shower head. Stepping in, he screamed in shock, and jumped out, tripping over the edge of the tub. No hot water. This was not going to be a good morning.

* * *

Hurriedly jogging around and past other people at the station, his many items behind him, he cursed at his bad luck. Having refused to leave for Hogwarts with no shower, he had looked up a book on runes. Etching the shape described so in the book, and casting the correct incantation, he had enough hot water for a long shower. Unfortunately, the shower mixed with rune creation had cost him time. The train was leaving in less than a minute.

Pushing past an elderly couple, Harry saw a blaze of red hair disappear, seemingly into nowhere by a brick wall. Noticing that the place of disappearance was by Platform 9 ¾, Harry knew it for what it truly was. Running at full speed towards the barrier, he didn't have time to admire the scenery of King's Cross. Luckily for him, it was just a train station. What he couldn't help but admire, however, was what awaited for him on the other side of the in-solid wall between Platforms nine and ten.

Beyond the magical barrier was a red train, gold and black emblazonment. It was a larger than normal train that looked as if it would bulge off the track at any moment. Once Harry thought about it, he released it was probably only magic that stopped it from doing so. Moving forward quickly, Harry never noticed the red-headed, motherly matriarch that was looking at him oddly, as if seeing an old friend for the first time in _ages_. Realization dawned on her face, but not before Harry had jumped onto the Hogwarts Express, the doors closing behind him, a shrill whistle sounding as if to announce his arrival.

Looking around the inside of the train he had just entered, he jolted slightly at the movement that signaled his movement towards Hogwarts. A small anxiousness grasped and squeezed at his chest for a moment before he squashed it. He was away from those horrible people, but he was hardly going to let himself get too comfortable at Hogwarts.

* * *

Five minutes later found Harry without a compartment. He had learned, before attending, that the Hogwarts Express was always packed, but he had yet to come across a room that wasn't occupied to it's fullest. He had met a rather snotty, shiny-haired boy in his quest for seating. Apparently, his tardiness meant that, 'he wasn't worthy to be seated with those of greatness'. Bloody prat, that one was.

Pulling open the last door of the last bus on the train, Harry was relieved to find only one other boy inside. A brown-haired, pudgy-faced, scrawny-bodied boy. The boy looked up with apprehension at the arrival of another student. He obviously hadn't been expecting company.

"May I sit here?" Harry asked, a slight lace of compulsion in his voice, "Everywhere else is full, you see."

"I don't see why not," came a small squeak of a voice from his new train-buddy, as Harry mentally called him, "My name's Neville. Neville Longbottom." Harry was starting to wonder why everyone in the wizarding world introduced themselves like James Bond. Maybe he should fall into the habit like they so obviously had done so.

Harry extended his hand, "Harry Potter." The boy gave a slight gasp before blushing and taking his hand, "How are you?"

The boy was still looking mildly awestruck. "I-I'm f-f-fine. Y-y-you?" The only words, if you could call them that, had been butchered so horribly, Harry was sort of hoping that someone would come and save him from this boy. Thinking of a better idea, Harry smiled.

"Tell me, Neville," Harry started, a slight malicious look on his face, "Do you know any of the supposed unforgivables?" He didn't give him time to answer as he pulled his wand out and swished it at their compartment door, "_Silencio!_" Neville gave a little whimper before Harry flicked his wand in his direction, making a '_whoosh_' sound, and spitting out, "_Imperio!_"

Harry could tell his spell had worked the instant it hit the boy. The telltale signs of the unforgivable taking effect: slumped shoulders, slight smile from the warmth spreading over the boy's body, and the eyes becoming slightly glazed over. Neville became his first pawn.

* * *

Having the only person in your presence under the imperius for any long period of time can backfire sometimes. It was now, considering that Neville wasn't much conversation at the moment. Harry swore he was talking to a brick wall. Or a gelatin wall. Neville really needed to work out.

The order for Neville to start doing jumping jacks never came to fruition, as their compartment door came open, a scrawny, yet gangly, red-headed child came waltzing into the space that was previously occupied by only two people.

"Mind if I sit down?" The boy asked, plopping down on the seat next to Neville without waiting for an answer, "Everywhere else is full."

Slightly put off by the rudeness, Harry didn't miss a beat before replying to the new arrival, "And if I did?" he asked.

The eleven year old seemed to ponder this for a while, obviously not accustomed to thinking. "Well, I dunno. I don't want to leave."

Chuckling inside, Harry replied, "And if I _made_ you?" His eyes got a bit darker as he finished his question.

"Listen, what's with all the quest--" the boy stopped speaking as he looked at Harry's forehead, "_Bloody Hell_!" He exclaimed, "You're Harry Potter!"

"Really?" the raven-haired boy replied, "I hadn't noticed."

"How could you not have noti--," the annoying boy started, before being cut off by a wandless silencing spell. Growing tired of the newcomer fairly quickly, he decided he would rather be alone with his gelatin slave than deal with the ignorance of this prat. Erasing the boy's memory, Harry ordered him out of the room, lacing his voice with a slight compulsion charm.

"Well, he was an annoying prat, wasn't he? " Harry asked, Neville. Getting no response from the enslaved child, Harry sighed and leaned his head against the back of comfortable seat, closing his eyes. He ordered Neville to do the same, through the brain link that the two now shared. The idea of someone so incapable sharing any part of his brain for whatever reason made him sick to his stomach, but it was a necessary evil.

The thoughts of how much fun it would be to torment a few people at his new school, and learn knowledge that would eventually help him overcome the rest of England and, eventually, the world, were the last things he thought about as a nice long slumber stole his conscious away from him, leaving in there place dragons and warlocks.

* * *

"I hope you don't plan on sleeping the _whole_ time," a voice came, seemingly from far away and yet so far away. "You _really_ should be getting up. We'll be arriving in a few hours." The voice got louder and louder as the screaming victim in his mind started to fade away. It was not such a bad thing, however, as he rather liked his consciousness' captor.

"Mmph." was his simply reply, pushing his glasses back on his eyes, his fingers going under them to rub away and bogies they found. "Wassit?"

"Charming, you are" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "_Very_ charming." She plopped down next to him and shook his shoulders, causing his glasses to fall to the ground. Grumbling slightly, he raised his hand and summoned them to him, pushing them back on his face.

"Well, you're certainly pleasant to wake up to, aren't you?" Harry asked, rhetorically, deciding whether or not to punt Hermione out the door.

"You really should be getting ready for school," She said, ignoring Harry's question, "We should be studying, and getting dressed, and studying, and talking about houses, and studying. I heard that sorting is absolutely dreadful! We'll need to know our stuff if we want to get into Ravenclaw!"

"Ravenclaw?" Harry replied, "Why would you want to be in Ravenclaw?"

"What do you mean, '_why would you want to be in Ravenclaw?_'" she rebutted, "It's the best house by far. Made for the intelligent at mind."

"And?" came from the boy's mouth, "Why would you want to be in that house?"

"Didn't I just answer you?" she asked, confused, "What house would you rather be in?"

"Honestly? I would rather not be in a house at all," Harry answered, "Whole thing's rubbish."

"_What_?" Hermione exclaimed, incredulous, "No house? Have you no pride?" In Harry's opinion, the whole thing was completely stupid. Why divide the houses at all? It didn't make much sense to separate the students into stereotypical situations their first day into school. School was designed to teach student life skills and cooperation. Not to divide them. Alas, Hogwarts was not his to control, and he had come to terms with the fact that he would have to be sorted into one of them. Which, he didn't care.

"Of course I have pride," Harry replied, patiently. "But why would I hold any for a silly tradition that has separated England for thousands of years? One that has no real base anymore, considering the founders are long gone and everyone who can do magic, period, is aloud in. The groundskeeper is a giant, and he attended. Not much point in that rule, is there?"

At the end of his rant, or so he called it, Hermione had a thoughtful look on her face. "You've been reading '_Hogwarts: A History_', haven't you?"

Harry smiled, this girl really was bright, "Every day. I take it you have?"

"A couple times," she answered, smirking.

"Well, I'm going to get dressed, mind waiting out in the hall?" he asked, eager to get into robes for the first time.

"Only if you do when I change," Hermione compromised.

"Fine," Harry said, sighing and standing up, "You go first though, I want to stretch."

* * *

Three hours later, and a few chocolate frogs lighter, the Hogwarts Express horn sounded, and the brakes screeched. After a slight lurch, the two stood and Harry commanded his mind slave, Neville, to stand and exit the compartment. After the minion had left, Harry looked to Hermione and offered her his hand. After all, it was the gentleman thing to do.

"Shall we," Harry asked, looking at Hermione. "Sorting should be fun."

Hermione sighed, worriedly, obviously anxious about the whole thing. "I guess."

"Oh, honestly," Harry said, exasperated, "It's just a silly old hat. They put in on your head and it screams out a name. Might as well pick a name out of a cup, for all it's worth. You'll be fine."

"How do you know?" She questioned, "What makes you so sure?"

"I'm not a muggle-born?" He replied-questioned, earning a smack in the arm.

"Oi." Harry gasped, in mock-pain, "Hurt a man, here."

Hermione chuckled, "Man?"

"That hurts, it does."

* * *

"_Forward_!" came the loud and stern voice of Professor McGonagall. "Yes, I mean you, first years."

Harry whistled, "She has a voice, doesn't she?" In all honestly, he didn't like how loud she was. Stern, okay. Overly loud and ear-drum exploding levels of noise, however, were taking it a bit far.

The large doors to the Great Hall opened, revealing a vast room with upwards of three-hundred students. '_Great Hall, indeed_' Harry thought. As the congregation of first years slowly walked up to the front of the hall, a hat on a stool became visible. As if by magic, the hat looked around at the students before clearing it's throat.

"Uh hmm," the sorting hat started.

"_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid _!

_And don't get in a flap_!

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap_!"

The song ended and the Sorting Hat put on a bemused look as it waited for the first student to approach him. Harry had a thoughtful look on his face about the way the hat had chosen it's words. Slytherins didn't sound so evil, just ambitious. Behind him, he could hear a familiar, and yet annoying, voice babbling on about 'it's' brothers and something else about a troll.

"Hannah Abbott!" came the voice of the undersecretary, "Come up here, dear."

The girl walked up to the stool, tripping once, and sat down. McGonagall looked down at the girl, before placing the hat on her head. After a few mumbles from the Sorting Hat, and a significantly fearful look from Hannah, the hat made it's decision.

"_Hufflepuff!_"

With a small sigh, the girl hopped off the stool and ran to the Hufflepuff table. Harry looked at Hermione and smiled. "I told you it was simple." he said, "She doesn't look nearly as smart as you, and she got on fine." Hermione blushed under the attention.

* * *

After a few thoughtful grumbles, the hat had finally placed Hermione in Ravenclaw. He knew that's where she wanted to go and was happy for it. After zoning out a bit more and some minor meditating, he heard his name called, and looked up. Everyone was looking at him, a bit more so than the other students were looked at, he noticed darkly. He walked up to the stool and sat down, instantly feeling the presence of the hat in his mind.

"You're mind is very interesting, young Mr. Potter," the Sorting hat spoke, shortly after being placed on his head.

"You, sound like Mr. Ollivander," was 'young Mr. Potter's' reply.

"He told you you're mind was interesting?" the hat inquired.

"No, but he talks just like you."

"That he does. Anyways... where to put you."

Harry mulled something over before asking the hat, in his mind, "Do I _really_ have to be sorted?"

The hat chuckled, the noise of it carrying over the rest of the hall, people were looking oddly at the two. No one must have ever taken this long to sort before. "It's against my policy to _not_ sort a student, Mr. Potter."

"Harry, please." Harry sighed, "Mr. Potter is so boring."

"Fine, then, Harry." The hat said, "I'm afraid I _must _sort you."

"I beg to differ," The boy said, through his mind to the hat, "What if you don't? Dumbledore can't really do anything, can he?"

"That's _Headmaster_ Dumbledore, Harrry," The hat chided.

"Fine." Harry grumbled, "_Headmaster_ Dumbledore. What can he do?"

"I'm not sure, young Harry," the hat said, a thinking chide to his voice, "I've never tried to found out."

"Well, come on then," Harry said, his voice eager, "What's the worst that could happen?"

"I really must insist against it, Harry."

"I insist."

"Oh, alright fine." The hat grumbled. He looked up at the crowed and spoke, his voice flat, but it's mind chuckling a bit inside.

"_None!_"

* * *

**A/N – **_Wow, even though my laptop failed, and I had to write this at school, I got it out early! Can you believe it? Anyways, I'm glad you all waited, and I'm surprised at the responses I got from the last chapter! I can't reply frequently to reviews anymore like I want to. However, I promise if you have a review with a question or a suggestion, I'll reply to it. I simple don't have time, however, to reply to 'Good work, so far' reviews anymore, no matter how much I want to. Once again, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter._


	6. A Potion Master's Wing

**Disclaimer:** _Of course I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, I would have killed myself from the pure shame and guilt of knowing I completely screwed Harry over in the end by putting his soul mate with his socially skill deprived, back-stabbing, 'best friend', and leaving him with said 'friend's' whore sister. 'Nuff said._

* * *

**Chapter Five – A Potions Master's Wing**

Silence, if only for a moment, reigned in the Great Hall before the muttering started. Even though no one was talking obnoxiously loud, the din rose, as if amplified by the suspicious events before them. McGonagall tutted and looked angrily at the hat. The old, sophisticated, woman walked forward towards Harry and the Hat before whispering somewhere to the left of the Hat's 'face'. Harry assumed this was where she imagined the ears of said ancient hat's where located.

"What do you mean, '_none_'?" Harry heard McGonagall asking the hat, "He cannot belong to _no_ house. It's unheard of!"

"Excuse me, _Deputy Headmistress_," Harry heard the hat whisper back in a fervent, angry tone, "Who are _you_ to decide what I have decided for over _one thousand_ years?"

"You realize that Albus will _not_ have this, don't you?" She asked, her eyes now pleading with the hat to make a decision.

"I'm sorry, Minerva, but this decision lies with me." The hat said, "Not you, nor the headmaster."

McGonagall sighed and backed away from the hat before nodding and heading back over to the staff table. Once she was behind the table, she walked to Dumbledore's seat and leaned over to speak to him. Temporarily unconcerned with the conversation that the two were having, Harry spoke to the hat.

"Well, that went over rather well, didn't it?" he asked the hat, who cackled in response.

"I've never seen her quite so," The hat paused for a moment, looking for the right word to use, "Flustered, before."

The hat's laughing attitude ended quickly as Professor McGonagall headed away from Dumbledore and down the steps towards the hat and Harry.

"Evening, Professor," Harry said politely. "How are you?"

"Now is not the time for formalities, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said harshly, dimly aware that he was trying to lighten the mood. "If you could go to your tab-." She stopped herself before starting again, having almost misspoken from routine habit, "If you could sit on the stairs over there, we might sort the rest of your peers."

* * *

"Zabini, Blaise." McGonagall's stern voice called, a small black boy walking in the wake of her words. Having had all his class sorted, Blaise was worried where he would be going.

"Definitely ambitious, very brave," thought the hat, "loyal enough, and a good head, too. But where to put you."

"Not Gryffindor, not Gryffindor, not Gryffindor," Blaise chanted, "Not Gryffindor."

"Not Gryffindor, eh?" The hat said aloud, "Well then. Better beeee... SLYTHERIN!"

A loud eruption came from the farthest table to the left in the form of cheers and applause. Blaise grinned and ran off to join his new house, leaving Harry all alone at the front of the Great Hall. Once again, all eyes were on him.

"Now, Mr. Pott-" McGonagall began, before being cut off by a soft, yet powerful voice.

"If you wouldn't mind, Minerva," The headmaster began. Dumbledore stood from his seat at the staff table and walked to the stool at the base of the hall, taking long, confident strides as he went. "I would like to have a small talk with Adrian."

As he approached the stool, Harry could hear the hat sigh. "Great.." Harry chuckled a bit to himself, trying to look bashful at the same time. He figured he probably looked constipated trying to suppress a laugh and look shy.

McGonagall moved over, out of the way of the headmaster's way, to let him to the stool, as if guarding a sacred object that he had just been granted access to. In a way, Harry thought, that wasn't necessarily too far from the truth.

Dumbledore put the hat on his head and moved his eyes to the rim of the hat, not moving his head, as if thinking having it in his line of vision would make the communication process work more swiftly. "So, Adrian, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"Whatever do you mean Albus?" The hat said, mockingly, "I have a lot of things I could say about myself, considering I'm over a millennium in age. Even if I do stay in the same old, dusty tower all day."

"You know very well what I mean, Adrian!" Dumbledore exclaimed, "You're job is to sort the children of this school! If you refuse, what exactly is the purpose for your continued enchantment?"

"Don't you dare threaten me, old man!" The hat nearly shouted into his head, "It clearly made apparent to all headmasters and mistresses of this school that I was to be unharmed, and to allow or cause my destruction would terminate your role here!"

"Such rules can be over looked, hat!" Dumbledore practically screamed in his mind, his face clearly showing his consternation, "I am the most powerful wizard in all of England!"

"You can try to break the rules of the ancients, but even you are not more powerful than Godric, Salazar, Rowena, and Helga combined." The hat thought docilely, apparently calmed, "As for the most powerful wizard in England, you will soon know of someone even you cannot pair against."

"What are you saying, Adrian?" Dumbledore asked, his mouth open, not trying to hide his surprise at what the hat had just said to him. The headmaster wasn't dignified with an answer. "Adrian? Adrian!"

Dumbledore stood from the stool, albeit shakily, and placed the ancient hat on the stool, before looking to McGonagall, "I'm going to go," Dumbledore paused, looking for the right words, "Rest my head, Minerva."

McGonagall stood still, almost statuesque, confused, "But... Albus." She began, "The students, the feast, young Mr. Potter! How can you leave now?"

"I'm sure you'll manage Minerva," He said, softly, looking his every year of age, "You are after all, my undersecretary." With that, he walked off, his confident stride gone from his pace.

As the old, yet powerful, man left the hall through a back door in the hall, Minerva turned to Harry, "Mr. Potter," She started, "Find a seat to eat during the feast, we'll worry about sorting you later."

Harry timidly looked around, nervous for the first time all night. Everyone was looking at him, again. Attention, in his eyes, was bad. He took a few steps towards the Ravenclaw table, intent on sitting next to Hermione, she had an open seat next to her, when he heard another voice calling out to him.

"Harry!" Came his name from the mouth of the imbecile red-head he had met earlier on the train, "Hey! Harry! Over here!"

Ignoring him, Harry continued over to the Ravenclaw table and looked at Hermione, "May I sit here?" He asked. Receiving a small smile and a nod of the head, Harry sat next to his friend and looked to the front of the hall, to see McGonagall standing behind a stand. Harry assumed that was were Dumbledore would usually stand, had he not departed early because of the conversion he had with the hat.

"Students! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" She yelled for everyone to hear, "I have a few starting of the year announcements to make. First of all, the Forbidden Forest is, indeed, Forbidden." Harry scoffed at this, finding that the name seemed to make that bit of information painfully obvious. "A new list of prohibited objects in this school can be found in Mr. Filch's office, or outside his door at all times. Professor Tibet retired this year, as well. Professor Quirrell will be taking his place," McGonagall pointed to a young man with a purple turban on his head, "And lastly..."

McGonagall got a pensive and a slight edgy look on her face, "The third floor corridor is strictly forbidden to anyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." Her face relaxed and she smiled a bit before speaking again, obviously savoring the moment, "Now, let the feast begin!" She raised her hands into the air and food appeared, from seemingly nowhere, onto the tables before them. The large, thick oak tables groaned at the weight of all the different varieties of foods.

"Wow," Harry muttered. He looked over to Hermione and saw that she was shocked too. A few of the older Ravenclaws sniggered at their reaction, "That's a lot of food." He remarked.

"No kidding," Hermione said, awestruck. Deciding that his hunger outweighed his awe, Harry grabbed food and started piling it onto his plate, before grabbing his utensils and picking at his favorites, plucking them with the fork and then putting them in his mouth. He shivered at the taste, Petunia hadn't cooked anything this good. Ever.

Seeing Hermione doing the same, Harry continued to eat.

* * *

After everyone had eaten, and dessert had come and gone, McGonagall stood to her feet and walked to the large eagle-arched podium.

"I hope you all enjoyed the feast! However, now it is time to go to bed! You have plenty of learning to do in the morning, " She began, "Prefects, if you could lead the first years to their dormitories, that would be splendid. Mr. Potter, if you could remain seated, I wish to speak with you once the Hall has been cleared out."

With her address finished, everyone stood up. You could hear the seats scraping across the ground in France, Harry was sure. As everyone filed out, he looked around in anticipation. He stood as well, eventually, and walked to the front of the hall, yet again.

"Yes, Professor?" He asked.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall sighed, "I am deeply sorry that the hat has caused you so much trouble. This has never happened before, I assure you. As of now, you are not in a house, thus you cannot go to any specific house dormitory. We'll have to place you in a guest suit until further notice."

"No problem, Professor," Harry began, "I don't mind the hassle, though it is a bit embarrassing." Trying to get in with the teachers was going to be difficult, he reasoned. He figured the small, shy, and good-willed student act would have to suffice.

"Anyways, Mr. Potter," She began again, "I shall show you to your room."

Professor McGonagall led Harry up a set of stairs off the entrance to the great hall, and then down a set of spiral stairs to a large wooden door. Harry looked up at the obvious Victorian style and grinned. This would be perfect. He nodded at her and she opened the doors, revealing another hallway. They took a left at the first turn and a right at the next before reaching another set of doors. One to the left, the other to the right.

McGonagall pointed to the one on the left and Harry nodded, sighing slightly as he walked towards the door to open it. Behind the, once again, large Victorian doorway, was a smallish room with a fireplace and a chair with a couch. In between the chair and couch was a coffee table and an ottoman, a nightstand next to the chair. A spiral staircase that led into the ceiling and three doors were the only other decorations that stuck out, besides the carpets and stone walls with pictures of wizards Harry didn't know.

"It's very nice, Professor, but what to the doors lead to?" Harry asked, in true curiosity.

"Well, Mr. Potter," she began, "The door to the left by the couch leads to the school's library. The one by the spiral staircase leads to a back entrance to the Great Hall." She paused for a moment before continuing, "The one by the door we just entered doesn't work. Behind it is just a brick wall. Even Dumbledore doesn't know why it's there. The staircase over there by the Great Hall entrance, leads to your rooms."

Harry pondered about the door with no leading path, but put it to the back of his mind, "Erm.. Thank you, Professor McGonagall," Harry said sleepily, "I think I'll be off to bed now, with classes tomorrow and whatnot."

"Right," McGonagall said, turning, "It was a pleasure, Mr. Potter." As she walked to the door she looked back and stared at him, "You look so much like your father... but you have your mother's eyes." With that she exited the doors, closing them behind her.

Harry sighed and slumped into the chair. McGonagall seemed nice enough. Maybe he could use her, one day. He closed his eyes and fell asleep, his glasses still on.

* * *

It was cold and dark in the classroom that he had just entered. Sizzling from unknown Cauldrons in the back filled the room. Harry had heard that this was the class that Professor Snape taught. He had been looking forward to meeting him. Having read up on wizarding law, he came across a lot of history. History that included past Death Eaters; the Voldemort supporters. Snape was one of his inner circle, only to be saved by Dumbledore when, as Harry called it, 'shit hit the fan'. He didn't like Snape, and he hadn't even met him yet.

Moving to the front of the classroom, he took a seat. He was the first student in class, having headed straight here after waking up. He processed all the classes he had taken up to this point, including one of his favorites from Transfiguration.

_**-oOoO-**_

_ "Good thing I wasn't late," Came the annoying voice of Ronald Weasley, "I would have hated to see the face of McGonagall if she knew I had been late!" He spotted Harry as he said all of this, and went to sit down next to him, when Hermione took the opportunity._

_ "Thanks, Hermione." Harry whispered to her, "I don't want to be expelled for murder. Would look horrible on a job application."_

_ "I understand," she paused, "Harry." He decided he liked hearing her say his name._

_ Movement from Harry's peripherals knocked him out of his reverie. He had sensed a strong sort of transformation magic, but had no idea that it was actually McGonagall. Nice little cat transformation, Harry thought._

_ "That was bloody brilliant," Weasley began, only to be cut off unceremoniously. _

_ "Perhaps I should transfigure you into a pocket watch," She started, "Maybe then you would be on time."_

_ "Sorry professor, I got lost." He explained, trying to refrain from getting in trouble, to no avail, of course._

_ "Maybe a map then," She retorted, "Five points from Gryffindor."_

_ "But Profes-" _

_ "Close your mouth and take a seat, Mr. Weasley."_

_**-oOoO-**_

Back to reality, Harry realized that people were starting to come into class, at the head was Hermione. Harry patted the seat next to him.

"Took you long enough, you know," Harry said, smiling.

"How, in Merlin's name, did you get here so quick, Harry?" She asked, slightly out of breath.

"I know my way around," He retorted, "Maybe I could show you sometime."

"Are you asking me out on a date, Harry?" She asked, blushing slightly.

Harry blushed a bit, as well, before responding, "Nonsense, that's for older kids. Just two friends hanging out."

"Friends...?" Hermione asked, before getting a glazed look on her face and looking ahead to the front of class. Snape had just entered.

He moved quickly, yet somehow gracefully, through the classroom doors, headed straight to the front of class where he stood in front of his desk, taking a few pieces of parchment and a quill from his table.

He faced the classroom and held the paper out in front of him, surveying the students, before beginning to take roll call. As he called each name a student either raised there hand or called out, "Here". After most of the students were called, Snape looked up and stared at Harry.

"Ah yes," he said in his apparent trademarked drawl, "Potter. Our new – _celebrity_."

Only a few people laughed, all of them being from Slytherin, everyone else was quiet and kept looking back and forth between Harry and Snape. A brief stare-down later, and Snape continued calling off names.

After a while, and all names called off, Snape paused before taking in a breath and talking, barely more than a whisper. Even though he was talking low, everyone in the class could hear him speak. "You are here to learn the subtle and exact arts of Potion making." He paused for dramatic effect, Harry could tell, before continuing, "As there is little silly wand-waving in my classroom, many of you will not accept that this branch of magic is, indeed, magic. I expect few of you to realize and appreciate the beauty of a soft sizzle in a cauldron as your creation comes to fruition, the vibrant and addicting chemicals running through our very own veins, or even the passion that it takes to wait patiently on your own work, such as those of you who learn Potions with respect will."

The class was silent, and Snape continued, "I can teach you to bottle glory, brew fame, and even put a stopper in death." Harry was writing this down because, as he though, putting a stopper in death, would be a good tool for the future. He'd be damned if he was going to miss that lesson.

Out of no where, came the sharp voice of Snape, "Potter!", the swift change in his tone startled many students, including Hermione. Few fell from their seats, "What would I get if I added

powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry thought back to reading his text and answered, almost immediately, "Sir, I believe they make an extremely strong sleeping potion called the Drought of Living Death... sir."

Snape opened his eyes, slightly, in surprise. "Tell me then, Potter," He began again, "Where would I look if I needed to find a bezoar?"

Again, Harry remembered the answer, "Sir" Harry began, "The fourth year text books say that a bezoar comes from the stomach of a goat, sir."

Snape actually growled a bit before barking out another question, this one from, as Harry recalled, his Newt-practice Guide on Potions, "Potter! What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Calm, still, Harry answered, "Sir, if I'm not mistaken, they are the same thing. They are also known by another name, Aconite, sir."

Having had enough, for now, Snape closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them. "Well, why are you all writing this down?"

* * *

The rest of the class went fairly smooth and, at the end, Harry turned in his completed potion, without any mistakes. No one else, minus Hermione, had completed without having to restart at least once. As he made to exit the classroom, Snape called him back.

"Yes, Professor?" he asked, a bit mentally drained.

"Those were..." Snape paused, "Some quite impressive answers, Mr. Potter."

"Thank you, sir." Harry answered, going along with the shy and abashed student routine. Secretly, Harry was very so on edge. Snape seemed to hate him, and yet here he was in front of him being complimented.

Then he felt it. A slight twinge in his forehead. As if it was a minor headache, he forced the pain away from his mind. Snape looked shocked for a moment before continuing.

"How would you like to take Advanced Potion Making?" Snape asked, "It's far ahead of your age group, in fact it's sixth year material. You seemed to understand it earlier, it would make sense to cover something that may actually present a challenge to you."

The pain was much harder this time. Harry actually moaned a bit at the pain. He pushed it aside with as much power as he could. He turned on his heel and left the room.

"I'll think about it professor!" Harry yelled back, "I don't feel quite well."

He never noticed the resident Potion's Master lying on his back, having fell out of his chair, unconscious. Harry walked all the way back down to his guest suit, entering the door and slamming it shut behind him, slamming himself to the bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

A woman's scream and a flash of green light accompanied his dreams.

* * *

_A/N – Once again, I made it out early! Someone hand me meh cookie! I hope you liked the chapter. Not much to really say on it. You'll noticed speech differences in some of the infamous dialog; this is because I hate copy and pasting. It proves that I have illegal copies of the books stored on my computer... wait... what? Anyways, hope you enjoyed, again. Until next month, maybe even sooner. DeZe._


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